


You Found Me

by through_shadows_falling



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Animal Transformation, F/F, F/M, Familiar Castiel, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Profound Bond, Sharing a Bed, Soulmates, Witch Dean Winchester, deancastropefest, deancastropefest2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-11 08:30:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7884019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/through_shadows_falling/pseuds/through_shadows_falling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is a Witch without a Familiar because, unlike everyone else, he’s never experienced the Call that brings Witches and Familiars together. But that’s fine, really. He doesn’t mind not being able to use his magic, and he definitely isn’t jealous of other Bonded pairs. Nope, not him. Which makes it all the more incredible when an Unbonded Familiar—a crow named Cas—smashes down on his windshield with a broken wing. Dean’s mother is able to heal Cas’s wing, but they’ve got a bigger problem: Cas’s Grace has been stolen, which prevented him from ever initiating a Call. He believes Dean is his Witch, so they embark on a journey to get his Grace back with the hopes that they can officially Bond as a true Witch/Familiar pair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Found Me

**Author's Note:**

> It feels good to get this story out of my system! It sat in my computer drive for YEARS before I finally used this challenge to get it finished. Hope you enjoy it!
> 
> First, though, many thanks to the mods muse and Jojo for putting this delightful challenge together and being incredibly kind and helpful and organized! 
> 
> Then, I must thank my fantabulous beta readers Liz, [Julia](http://rainbow-trash-can.tumblr.com/), and [Rachel](http://idatheactivist.tumblr.com/), who were all super supportive and helpful in encouraging me when I got stuck! You are all wonderful <3
> 
> And finally, last but certainly not least, [Michelle](http://kuwlshadow.tumblr.com/), my FANTASTIC artist whose works are interspersed throughout. Not only did she create a banner, but she also gave me some cute chapter transition options that I absolutely adore! Give her some love because she deserves it for her excellent work!

Dean really didn’t want to go to the meeting, but Sam shot him his trademark _puppy eyes_ and god damn it, Dean still wasn’t able to resist his baby brother after all.

“You don’t have to stay for long,” Sam said as his bat Familiar latched onto his long hair and dangled upside down. Dean would’ve shrunk back from the sight if he wasn’t used to it by now, and though he had once joked that Ruby was a rat with wings, she was…kind of cute. If you were into that, which Sam totally was.

It painted a hilarious picture actually, because Sam was this hulking dude at six foot four, and his Familiar’s form was a Little Brown Bat no more than four inches long. Heck, Sam’s _fingers_ were longer than Ruby’s entire _body_ , but he was a gentle giant, and Dean looked on as Sam gently stroked the fur on her chest, causing her to chirp and twitch her long ears.

“Yeah, but I still don’t see the point,” Dean said, ignoring the twinge of jealousy in his gut. By now, he expected the feeling and tamped it down, but no matter how hard he tried, he could never erase it completely.

“It’s important to stay informed. Mom and Dad are going.”

“Yeah, well, they have to.”

“Dean…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Stay positive.” He sighed dramatically when Sam turned up the intensity of his eyes. “ _Fine_ , I’ll go.”

“Good.” Sam smiled as Ruby nuzzled into his hair.

“Ugh. You guys are gross. I’m going to work.”

“See you there, then!” Sam called after him, and Dean grunted an affirmative as he slung his coat over his arm. He left Sam’s house and made for the car parked at the curb, his pride and joy—a black ’67 Impala. Dad had given it to him on his 18th birthday, and Dean suspected that the gift was supposed to help ease the pain that he still didn’t have a Familiar. After all, his parents could never have predicted that their son, the eldest grandson of two powerful, intersecting lines of Witch clans, was going to live his life Familiar-less. He had turned 28 several months back, and Dean could remember the desperate hope plastered on his mom’s face.

“I’m sure this’ll be the year, sweetie,” she had said. Dean hadn’t mentioned that she said that every year, and so far, her prediction powers were lacking. She was more of a spell-caster anyways, preferring magic used for concealment and defense rather than foresight, which was more of his dad’s specialty through his Familiar Michael, a Bald Eagle. His mom’s Familiar was a Bobcat named Eve, who excelled at camouflage. No predicting the future for her, though she’d tried.

As of yet, no one had been able to come up with anything for him. So as far as he knew, there was no Familiar now, no Familiar in the future, no Familiar ever. Period. End of story.

Normally, once Dean hit puberty, he’d experience the Call—the magnetic connection that brought a Witch and Familiar together, no matter where they were. Sam had been in the middle of a high school English class when his happened, and he bolted out of the room and ran outside for miles before Ruby at last touched down on his head.

But Dean? He’d hit 16 and waited with excitement, then fear, then anger, and finally resignation. Perhaps it had something to do with his complicated birth as a baby, or maybe some part of Dean was broken, but he’d never felt anything even remotely like a Call.

 _It’s not a big deal_ , Dean thought for the millionth time as he drove. More than half the population was just regular people—Regs, they were called—without a shred of magic in them. Dean had already joined their ranks, and that was fine. So what if he had a powerful bloodline, with magic _literally_ coursing through his veins? Without a Familiar to channel it, he was as good as the average Joe. This was his life, and he was used to it. It was pointless to dream of an alternative.

He arrived at his tiny office space and greeted his fellow tech crew: Charlie and her Familiar Gilda, who was in the form of a butterfly, and Ash, who was a Reg, but a brilliant one with no qualms about the supernatural. Together, they owned and operated a small business that ran websites for otherworldly beings. Their most popular was _Who You Gonna Call?_ , a forum that connected Witches and Familiars whose Calls prompted them across the country or world. The site also contained a network of Familiar breeding centers around the globe, where announcements could be made and contact information could be accessed. Many Witches, mistakenly or not, believed that visiting these centers would trigger their Calls. There were enough stories to make it almost believable, but Dean had been there and done that to no avail. He should’ve known a Familiar just wasn’t in his cards.

Dean grimaced at the abruptly sour taste in his mouth. Why was he thinking of something so depressing? He’d been having a pretty good day, damn it.

“What’s got you so grumpy, Mr. Sour Puss?” Charlie asked. She was wearing her usual bright pink headphones and bopping along to music Dean couldn’t hear. Gilda, a red-spotted admiral butterfly, clung to the headpiece in an impressive balancing act.

“Nothing,” Dean said as he slid into his chair. Their desks formed a small pod that faced each other in a pseudo-triangle.

Next to him, Ash appeared deep in concentration, his brows furrowed as his dual-monitors lit his face. “The servers went down last night. Just finished rebooting them.”

“Again? Why do they keep doing that?”

Ash shrugged. “Needs more magic. You hear that, Charlie?”

Charlie was mouthing words to a song and startled abruptly when she noticed Dean and Ash staring at her. She pried off one side of her headphones. “What’s up, fellas?”

Dean rolled his eyes and they got underway. Despite the technical glitches and other glorious frustrations, he loved his job. It had a lot to do with his co-workers and the fact that this was a business he’d built with his own two hands. Without magic to assist him, he’d had to learn all the human ways of computing—a vastly different situation compared to Charlie’s cyberlingualism abilities. Still, understanding computers and the internet the old-fashioned way was more helpful than he could’ve imagined, and his business had grown until they were able to rent a fairly nice office space. Sure it was small, with only two rooms and a bathroom, but it was better than his parent’s basement. _And_ it came with a pre-stocked vending machine.

The day flew by. By the time Dean glanced at the clock, he realized he would have just enough time to make it to the meeting. Charlie had already left—the wonderful part of being self-employed—so Dean said goodbye to Ash and quickly drove to The Roadhouse.

The Roadhouse was a bar and restaurant owned by the Harvelles, who were close family friends. The establishment was the hub for Witch and Familiar activity in the area, so every night before the meeting, they cleared a space in the dining room and set up chairs facing the stage on the far wall. The Roadhouse had karaoke nights the first Saturday of every month, and occasionally a local musician popped in to serenade guests for the evening. Tonight, however, the stage was for Dean’s parents, the leaders of their coven.

Despite their remote location in Kansas, Mary and John Winchester were well-known and came from ancient blood, ensuring that they would have a voice in all magic affairs. Their monthly meetings were a way of staying connected with the overall supernatural network, and giving voice to opinions on matters closer to home.

Dean took a seat in the back row, and slowly, the rest of the community trickled in. Mary and John took the chairs on stage with Familiars at their sides, and Sam sat front and center with Ruby on his shoulder. Charlie sat next to Jo Harvelle toward the left side, and Dean caught his friend Benny’s eye as the older man snuck out the side door. Benny hadn’t attended their meetings since his Familiar died. Dean couldn’t blame him, and would’ve followed if only Sam hadn’t stood to survey the crowd. His brother smirked when he saw Dean in the back, and Dean returned his look with a petulant half-wave.

Silence descended on the room when Dean’s mother scraped back her chair and stood. She was tall and fair, with blond curls and blue eyes. As the Matriarch of their coven, she was their most powerful Witch, and Dean knew firsthand how strong she could be. Though her specialty was defensive spells, she was also adept at healing, and had once performed a 52-hour surgery to save the lives of not one, not two, but three young Witches whose attempt at a spell had horribly backfired.

Her hand braced on the head of Eve in Bobcat form, Mary cleared her throat and began. Tonight’s topic of contention was a business proposition, and Dean yawned. He reached down to scratch the ears of his uncle Bobby’s Familiar, an old black Schnauzer with grey whiskers. His name was Rufus, and though he appeared to be as uninterested as Dean in the proceedings, his ears were tilted toward the stage, clearly listening.

They moved on to Familiar regulations and the topic of breeding centers. Up on stage, Mary spoke passionately, advocating for more support for the poorer centers, especially in terms of education for young Familiars. Dean could feel the whole room squirming. This was a touchy subject. Not all breeding centers were created equal, and he’d both read online and heard in person many awful accounts about the lower quality ones.

As usual, a donation jar was passed around, and as soon as Dean shoved in a few bills, he stood. Technically, as a Familiar-less Witch, none of this concerned him. He edged his way out of the room, glad he had chosen a seat near the back.

He was met at the door by Michael in human form, his eyebrows raised. Dean hadn’t even seen him flutter off the stage.  

“Where are you going?” Michael asked.

Dean refused to meet his eyes. “This is a meeting for Witches and Familiars, and I’m neither.”

Michael remained stone-faced. “Your father wants you to stay.”

Dean scoffed. “Why does anyone care if I attend these things? It’s not like I can take over someday.” Not without having access to and control of even a _single_ spell.

Michael cocked his head, reminding Dean of his eagle form, though his lips were pursed where his beak would normally be clicking together in annoyance.

“It is still wise to be informed.”

“Nah, I’m good, thanks.” Without waiting for another word, Dean brushed past him. Moments later, he rumbled away in his car, heading for his apartment near Sam’s house.

Dean’s apartment was located on the second floor of a duplex, and was, admittedly, pretty crappy. Despite his growing business, he’d poured most of his savings into higher salaries for Charlie and Ash, better equipment, and the new facility, so he’d accepted the apartment for what it was. A smoker had lived there previously, and it had taken a long time for his mom’s spells to seep into the walls and eliminate the stains and lingering odor. It was pretty cramped too, since the roof dipped down in several places and made it so he had to duck. There were also the chipped tiles in the kitchen, the broken bathroom fan, and the fungus behind his washing machine, but it was _his_ , and it was near Sam, so that’s all that really mattered.

Well, that and the fact that it was safe. Dean’s parents had pumped enough wards into the building to repel Satan himself. That was their way of apologizing for his fucked-up existence while also not-so-subtly involving themselves in his life.

Dean sighed, not wanting to think of his father’s lecture the next time they ran into each other. Yeah, Dean had left the meeting, and yeah, it _would’ve_ been his responsibility to stay if he was a functioning Witch, but since he wasn’t, what was he supposed to do about it?

Dean flipped on his turn signal, and was just pulling his Impala into the front driveway of his apartment when all of a sudden, a dark blur smashed on his windshield and rolled down the hood.

Dean slammed on the brakes and threw the car into park. His heart hammering in his chest, he flung open the door, leaving the motor running and the headlights on. It was already dusk, so when he hurried around the side of his car, Dean was surprised to see a giant, black bird lying on the ground.

Only, it wasn’t just any bird. It was a full-sized crow, with a broken wing to boot. Had it been trying to fly when it dropped onto his car?

Dean had only ever seen crows from a distance, so he hadn’t realized how _big_ they were. Up close, the bird had to be close to a foot long. The poor thing lay in the driveway, dazed. Its beak hung open, and its chest heaved as it emitted soft noises. Its broken wing was a mess as it flapped uselessly, the feathers in complete disarray.

Dean hesitated and then removed his jacket to act as a makeshift blanket. He leaned down and scooped up the bird in one swift motion, surprised when it didn’t protest, though it was probably still in shock.

Carefully, Dean set the crow down on the passenger seat of his car. He crossed to the driver’s side and finished driving to his parking space. The crow, nestled in its bundle, didn’t even react to the movement, though it still panted harshly.  

Dean winced. The thing was probably dying, but he had already rescued it, so he couldn’t just throw it back outside. Even if it would likely be dead by morning, he wasn’t so heartless as to not _try_ , especially if it turned out to be a Familiar. Dean’s Familiar radar had grown steadily worse over the years, so he wasn’t reliable on that count. Still, he might as well give the bird a shot.

Dean gently lifted the crow bundle in his arms and headed up the outside stairs leading to his apartment. At his door, he said words to unlock the wards, and frowned when they flared blue instead of their usual green.

Huh. The wards turned blue whenever a Witch _and_ a Familiar were present, like when Sam and Ruby dropped by, so they probably registered the animal in Dean’s arms and thought it was his Familiar. Ha, as if. Though that _did_ seem to indicate that the crow he carried was more than just a crow. If it lived till morning, Dean would have to call Sam and Ruby over and see if they could recognize the creature as a Familiar or not.

Inside, Dean set up the crow on a nest of pillows and blankets behind the couch, facing the kitchen. He would’ve put the thing on the couch since it was softer, but he didn’t want the bird to fall off if it snapped out of its trance and panicked. So, while it lay there, still stunned and making no indication it was aware of its surroundings, Dean browsed the internet on his laptop for what else he could do. He ended up slicing an old apple and placing a cup of water right in front of the crow’s makeshift nest.

An hour passed. At the kitchen table, Dean scoured website after website, but most advised taking the injured bird to a rehabilitation center, which was not a possibility. For one thing, it was dark now, and they were probably closed. For another, the bird may very well be a Familiar, and Dean was loath to leave one of their own in the care of a completely ignorant Reg. It had been done before, and terrible stories circulated from one coven to another. Dean would _not_ make that mistake. He knew the rules: help if you can, determine the creature’s status, and then seek an animal professional or a healer Witch, depending on the results.

Speaking of, calling his mom would be a great idea, even though she’d be mad that he left the meeting early. Dean’s eyes drifted to the crow again, and he breathed a sigh of relief. It had stopped breathing so harshly, and now had its eyes closed. It let out a cute trilling noise and burrowed itself into the blankets as it got comfortable. That was a good sign. It’d probably survive till morning, and then his mom could come patch up its wing.

Dean rubbed the crust from his eyes and yawned widely. His bones creaked as he stood and padded toward his bedroom. He treaded lightly near the crow, and bit his lip when the bird stiffened at his approach. It cracked open one eye and Dean smiled at it, hoping he wasn’t giving off any aggressive vibes.

“Just going to bed now, no problems here,” he said, and the crow relaxed as if it understood him.

Yeah, either it was super smart, or a Familiar. Dean would find out tomorrow.

He shucked his clothes and pulled on a ratty t-shirt. Then, with a whispered goodnight to the crow, he sank under the covers and went to sleep.

Dean’s alarm woke him the next morning, and the first thing he did was curse because he it was his day off and he’d forgotten to disarm it. Just as he snuggled back into his blankets, he remembered the crow and sat bolt upright. He clambered out of bed and staggered into the main room.

When Dean turned on the lights, he locked eyes with the bird, which was standing outside its makeshift nest, its bad wing dragging on the ground. It blinked up at him in the sudden brightness, and Dean marveled that the bird looked bigger than it had before, standing now at its full height with a pointed beak and dark, iridescent feathers.

“You made it,” Dean said as he grinned, pleased when he noticed that the water was at a lower level than the night before, and that the apple slices were nowhere to be seen. “You still hungry, little fella?”

The crow cocked its head at him and cawed once, its shiny black eyes fixated on him.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Dean turned to his refrigerator and rooted around for food.

According to the internet, crows were omnivores that ate pretty much anything put in front of them. Dean’s choice for the little guy was an old pear he swore Sam snuck in when he wasn’t looking. _He_ certainly couldn’t have been the one who bought it. Honestly, what kind of grown man actually went shopping for _pears_?

Dean sliced it up and set it down before the crow. Immediately, the bird attacked it with gusto.

“Whoa, dude, it can’t be healthy to eat that fast,” Dean said. “Slow down. You’re giving me a stomachache.”

The crow either didn’t hear him or didn’t care as it sucked down its feast before taking long gulps of water. Dean sank into a kitchen chair, mesmerized. At different angles the bird’s feathers caught the light and reflected tints of blue or green.

“You’re a pretty thing, aren’t ya?” Dean murmured.

When the crow finished, a bead of water dribbling down its beak, it peered at Dean and once again cocked its head. It ruffled its feathers but let out a harsh noise when it jarred its broken wing.

Dean winced. “Wish I could help with that, but I don’t know the spell. Even if I did, my magic’s shot. I’m a Witch with no Familiar so…I got nothing.”

A thought occurred to him, and Dean frowned. “Do _you_ have a Witch? I mean, are you a Familiar?”

The crow froze, and Dean extended a hand to reach for it. He had to jerk his arm back when the bird pecked at his fingers.

“Whoa, hey! That wasn’t very nice.”

The crow opened its beak and released a series of trills and caws. It hopped along the floor, its sharp nails scritching on the hardwood.

“Should I assume that’s a no to you being a Familiar, then?” Dean said. “Hey, wait, what’re you—?”

The crow crouched and tried to lift off, but it couldn’t flap its wings correctly. In horrible slow-motion, the bird crashed to the ground and Dean rushed over to help, though it snapped at him again.

“Come on,” Dean said. “I could’ve just left you outside, but I brought you in here and gave you a nice snack. I’m not gonna hurt you. You trying to kill yourself or something?”

The crow made a feeble noise, and right before Dean’s eyes, it seemed to slump in resignation. The gesture was so human, it gave Dean pause.

He swallowed, his heart abruptly racing. “I’ll ask you one more time. Are you a Familiar?”

The crow lifted its head and met Dean’s eyes. It nodded.

“Oh.” Dean drummed his fingers on the table. “Holy shit. Okay. Sorry. I mean, I’m sorry if I was treating you like…I dunno. I didn’t realize…” Dean exhaled a long breath. “Okay. So you’re a Familiar. Do you have a Witch?”

The crow shook its head.

“What about your human form? Can you transform at all?”

The crow indicated its broken wing.

Dean cringed. “Right, yeah.” Transforming with broken bones was a bad idea, as the process would only make it worse.

“Does it hurt?” he continued.

The crow gave a semi-nod.

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay. I should call my mom soon, then. She’s the leader of our coven here, the Winchester-Campbell Coven. She’s also a healer.”

When the crow appeared even more defeated at the news, Dean frowned.

“What’s the matter? She’ll be able to help.”

The crow cawed, but the sound was plaintive.

“What’s wrong, little guy?” Dean said before he could stop himself. “Er, I mean…sorry. But are you a dude or…?”

The bird nodded.    

“So what should I call you? I guess Beaky McBeakerson doesn’t appeal to you?”

Dean laughed when the crow shot him what could only be described as a murderous glare.

“Alright, alright, here.” Dean stood and yanked a pad of paper and a pencil off the counter. He scribbled the alphabet in big letters, and then laid it on the floor.

“Point at the letters to spell your name.”

The crow hopped over and jabbed its beak at three letters in succession: C – A – S.

“Cas? Your name’s Cas?”

The bird cawed with a vigorous nod.

“Cool. I’m Dean. Nice to meet you. You still hungry?”

Cas cawed again.

“How bout I make us some breakfast then?”

Twenty minutes later found Dean with two plates of cheese-scrambled eggs and buttered toast. He placed them on the table, and then crouched down.

“Need a lift?” he asked, and Cas hopped over. He latched onto Dean’s arm, and squeezed tight as Dean slowly raised him up. If it weren’t for Cas’s talons digging into his skin, Dean wouldn’t have even registered Cas was there. He weighed barely anything at all for such a large bird.

Once level with the table, Dean made an elevator noise and announced in a sensuous female voice, “3rd floor—Cafeteria.”

Cas trilled at that, a sarcastic sound that caused Dean to laugh.

“What? That was a good joke and you know it.”

Cas ruffled his feathers and jumped off, bee-lining toward his plate. He leaned down and dug in with enthusiasm. With the size of his wingspan, he took up half the surface of Dean’s small kitchen table.

Dean wasn’t sure if he should’ve cut the bread into smaller pieces, but it appeared he needn’t have worried—Cas’s talons were sharp, and once he’d anchored the bread beneath them, he ripped the slice with his beak in quick, powerful tugs.

Dean grinned to himself, suddenly aware of how surreal it felt to be sharing his breakfast with a crow. It reminded him of Sam with Ruby, which of course helped him remember that he needed to call his mom. After finishing his food, he got up and ran for his phone on the bedroom dresser.

His mom was already awake, so Dean explained the situation, and she agreed to come over as soon as possible. He called Sam next and got Ruby on the phone in her human form.

“I’m trying to talk to my _brother_ ,” Dean said, mockingly petulant.

Ruby sighed. “Yeah, yeah, he’s here. What’d you do this time?”

“I didn’t do anything! It’s what happened _to me_ last night. You won’t believe this…”

Ruby put him on speaker phone and Dean gave the pair the abridged version as he paced his bedroom.

“Sure you don’t feel anything for him?” Sam asked after Dean finished.

“What do you mean?”

“The way he crashed into you sounds an awful lot like how Ruby and I found each other. You sure he’s not your Familiar?”

“It’s not like that. Nothing’s changed. No Call, no magic. I technically can’t even tell if he’s really a Familiar or not.”

Ruby yawned. “Well, I guess we’ll be over soon. Be careful with him. Wings are tricky to fix.”

“Like I would let anything bad happen. I saved him, didn’t I?” Dean said goodbye and hung up, then quickly dressed. As soon as he stepped into his living room, he let out an alarmed cry.

Cas was hopping around the edge of the kitchen table, building up speed as he lifted his wings like he was going to fly. The problem was that his right wing wouldn’t cooperate and instead flopped uselessly. He made a choked sound as if in pain.

“Whoa, hey, calm down, Cas,” Dean said as he raced over. He gently caught the crow to stop him from moving. Cas’s chest heaved inside the loose circle of his fingers. “You’re going to hurt yourself even more. What exactly are you trying to do?”

Cas squawked and then nipped on Dean’s fingers.

Dean released Cas with a yelp. “Ow! What was that for?”

Cas cawed, a sound infused with what Dean somehow knew was frustration.

“You really want to get out so badly? Why?”

Cas lowered his head and then folded his legs beneath him to sit. He closed his eyes, and no matter what Dean said, he refused to budge from his spot on the table. He looked like an oblong ball with the way his narrow body fit together and his broken wing jutted out.

“Stubborn bird,” Dean muttered to himself. He shook his head and hastened to clean up his apartment so his mom wouldn’t scold him. He had just finished washing the last of his dirty dishes when his wards flared. There were light steps treading the stairs, and then Mary’s face appeared in the door window. She waved at Dean as he went to let her in.

“Hey, Mom. Hey, Eve,” he greeted, stepping aside so they could enter.

Eve was in her human form, a girl with dark hair and vivid eyes, though Dean swore her pupils were feline as she narrowed in on Cas.

“He’s definitely a Familiar,” she said as she approached him. “But…something’s not right.”

Cas peeped his eyes open and hunched down, emitting a soft tittering sound.

“Whoa, it’s okay, man,” Dean said quickly. “It’s just my mom and her Familiar—Mary and Eve. They’re not going to hurt you.” Before any of them could react, he reached out to stroke Cas’s head and back. The crow’s black feathers were smooth and somehow softer than he imagined as he got lost in the movement. It wasn’t until his mother coughed politely that Dean snapped out of his daze.

Below him, Cas’s beak had fallen open and his eyes were half-lidded. His whole body sagged in relaxed contentment. He chirped quietly, but the sound spoke of pleasure rather than fear.

Mary and Eve exchanged looks, causing Dean to blush. “What?” he demanded.

“Nothing,” Mary said quickly. “Now, Cas, would you permit me to examine your wing?”

Cas blinked, scrutinized Mary with a hasty look, then cawed in affirmation. He stuck out his broken wing, which she prodded with gentle fingers.

After a few minutes of awkwardly shifting his weight, Dean broke the silence. “Well? You can fix it, right?”

“I can. It’ll take a few hours though. Wings are very delicate and filled with tiny bones and muscles. I’m guessing… What do you think, Eve? Three hours?”

Eve nodded. “And a good few days of rest before attempting his human form, otherwise it could cause more damage.”

Dean winced. “Yeah. We don’t want that. You hear, Cas? No transforming yet.” At Cas’s impatient squawk, Dean made a sympathetic noise. He wanted to see Cas’s human form, too, though mostly out of the desire to ask what had happened to him.

Mary straightened and began to dictate spell ingredients to Eve.

“Hold on, so that’s it?” Dean interrupted halfway through. He nodded at Eve. “Didn’t you say something wasn’t right? You sure it’s just his wing?” Out of the corner of his eye, Dean noticed Cas droop at this line of questioning.

Eve bit her lip. “It’s something only Familiars can sense, so I’m not sure if… You’d have to get another opinion.”

“Sam and Ruby should be here soon,” Dean said.

“Good,” Eve said. “See what Ruby says. His wing’s the most important thing for now. Can we set up in your bedroom?”

“Uh, yeah, sure. Be my guest.” Dean hoped his dirty laundry was in the hamper and not strewn around… Crap. There was probably a pair of underwear _somewhere_ that wasn’t the dirty clothes hamper. Oh well.

Together, Mary and Eve brought in spell components from their car parked outside and set up a space in Dean’s bedroom where they could draw a circle and other symbols. Dean didn’t know what his magical specialty would be, but it certainly wouldn’t involve the complicated healing spellwork his mom was famous for. He had never even heard of half of the ingredients she used.

Sam and Ruby arrived an hour later, just as Mary and Eve finished their preparations.

Cas had fallen asleep on the table, so Dean carefully tucked a soft blanket around him until he was warm and cozy. Ruby, in human form, snickered at him as he fluffed up the blanket a little more.

“What?” Dean demanded. “Sue me, okay? I just want to make sure he’s comfortable.”

Even Sam looked amused at that before he loped over to the bedroom to greet Mary. “Hey, Mom,” he said. They hugged and then everyone glanced over at Ruby, who’d gasped. She had knelt to be at eye-level with Cas, and was now peering at him with furrowed brows.

“You sense it, too? Do you know what it is?” Eve asked as they gathered back around the table.

Cas blearily opened an eye and then jumped at Ruby’s close presence. He untangled himself from the blanket and hopped up to glare at her.

“Yeah, but I didn’t think it was real,” Ruby said. “I’ve only ever heard about it happening in horror stories.” She shuddered and reached for Sam. Their hands linked as he pulled her to his side.

“What is it?” Dean asked, impatient.

Cas’s gaze darted around as his chest started to heave.

“It’s his Grace. It’s gone,” Ruby said.

Cas emitted a mournful squawk and Dean moved to reassure him. At first, Cas recoiled from his hand, but then he let Dean stroke him like before. Slowly, he calmed.

“What does that mean?” Sam asked.

“Grace is everything,” Eve said, her expression solemn. “It’s the basis for all Witch/Familiar bonds. It’s chemical, magical. Without Grace, there is no way for a Call to occur in either Familiar or Witch.”

At that news, the spark of an idea niggled its way into Dean’s mind. After the way his wards reacted, was it possible that Cas _was_ his Familiar, but they hadn’t found each other until now because their Call had gotten messed up?

“But how could Cas lose his Grace?” Dean asked.

Ruby answered, her expression hard, “It isn’t something you lose. It’s something taken from you by force.”

Mary covered her mouth with her hand. “Who would do something like that?”

Sam’s eyes narrowed in concentration. “Mom, weren’t you talking earlier about some of the problems with the poorer Familiar breeding centers? What if one of them…?”

Their gazes focused on Cas now, who was shivering even beneath the warmth of Dean’s hand.

“Cas,” Dean said. “Can you tell us who did this to you?”

Cas’s trembling only increased until Dean realized why he was so afraid. “We’re not going to send you back there,” he said. “You won’t get in trouble for telling us.”

At that, Cas stiffened. He cocked his head up at Dean.

“I promise,” Dean said, meeting Cas’s beady gaze. “I swear to you on my life that you’ll never go back. Just help us figure out who did this, and we can stop them from hurting anyone else.” He stepped back to grab the paper where he’d scribbled the alphabet, then set it on the table. “It’s okay. Go ahead.”

They all waited in breathless silence while Cas hesitated before he leapt into action, spelling a name: M-E-T-A-T-R-O-N. Metatron, director of the most mysterious—and reputedly poorest—Familiar breeding center, Genesis.

Mary hissed in a breath through her teeth. “I should’ve known. That _weasel_.” Her fists clenched and Eve’s eyes glowed with fury. “I’d heard rumors but I didn’t know how bad it really was.” She softened and knelt before Cas. “I’m so sorry he hurt you. I can’t imagine what you went through.”

“Grace extraction,” Ruby whispered. She pressed her face into Sam’s chest, and in the blink of an eye, transformed into a bat so she could crawl up Sam’s shirt and nestle at the junction of his neck and shoulder.

“So what do we do?” Dean asked. He was stroking Cas again in an almost knee-jerk reaction.

“We’ll have to look up ways for Cas to get his Grace back,” Mary said. “But for now, let’s heal that wing of yours, huh?”

As Mary predicted, it took a little over three hours to heal Cas’s wing. Dean wasn’t allowed to sit in on the session, which he normally would’ve been fine with, except his fingers now itched with the urge to gently pet Cas through the process. He’d never had the desire to be so handsy with anyone—or anything—before, but he ached to touch now, especially since Cas must feel so frightened and alone. According to his mom, Metatron’s breeding center was pretty far north, so Cas had come a long way to escape such terrible abuse—and who knew how far he’d managed to fly on a busted wing? Thinking about it made Dean’s heart hurt where he sat on the couch, oddly tense as he wringed his hands.

When Mary and Eve emerged from the bedroom, Dean shot to his feet.

“Is he okay?” he asked.

Mary smiled, her eyes a bit tired but overall still upbeat. “It went perfectly. He’s resting now.”

“Can I see him?”

Mary blinked and exchanged yet another look with Eve before replying, “Sure, sweetie. But he’s asleep. Try not to wake him.”

Dean breezed by her as she and Eve stepped into the other room to converse with Sam and Ruby.

Inside his bedroom, he found Cas fully conked out on his bed, his wings outstretched as he lounged on his back. The unnatural position made him look dead, except Dean’s gaze flew to the gentle rising and falling of his chest, so he knew he was very much alive.

Dean sighed in relief, and his body finally relaxed. Cas was fine. His wing was all fixed, and soon, he’d be able to fly again, and even transform into his human form. Of course, he still needed his Grace back if he wanted to find his Witch, but one thing at a time. With a tender hand, Dean stroked down Cas’s belly once, then stood and returned to where his family had gathered in the kitchen, whispering to themselves. They quieted as Dean approached.

He rolled his eyes. “Well that wasn’t suspicious or anything. What is it? Come on, just lay it on me.”

“We were just saying that you’ve gotten awfully clingy to a Familiar you’ve just met,” Sam said, fighting back a smile. On his shoulder, Ruby squeaked.

“So?” Dean said with a scowl. He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Doesn’t mean anything.”

“Actually, it might,” Mary said.

“ _Mom_.”

“Hear me out,” she interrupted. “This isn’t just wishful thinking. There’s something between you two—the way you’ve been able to calm each other down is just one example. Cas can’t just have appeared here without reason. He could be your Familiar.”

Hope surged in Dean’s chest, but he tamped down on the giddiness. It was still too soon to get excited, although he’d already had his own suspicions. To have them validated from the outside made him feel…well, he’d have to see what Cas thought. This could just be in Dean’s head for all he knew.

His family lingered for another hour, just chatting in the living room. Dean couldn’t help his eyes from continually darting to his bedroom, though, and he had to actually force himself several times not to stand up and check on Cas. It was odd how strong the urges were to make sure Cas was okay. Where had these feelings even come from? It couldn’t be coincidence. Right?

After Mary, Eve, Sam, and Ruby left, Dean turned on his TV and sagged onto his couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table. He needed to shut down his brain for a while. His thoughts were swirling out of control and had now become full-blown fantasies of him as a fully powered Witch with Cas at his side. He imagined he could shoot fire, or detect poison, or a million other abilities a Witch could possess. What would he be able to do, and how would everyone to react to Dean _finally_ having his own Familiar, and a cool-ass crow to boot? But no, he couldn’t think about that yet, so he forced his gaze on some crappy (awesome) Spanish soap opera and let it lull him into oblivion. Before he knew it, he’d fallen asleep.

When he regained awareness several hours later, he discovered that he’d pitched onto his side, crunching his neck as he half-stretched out on his couch. He cracked one eye open and let out a startled yelp.

Cas stood on the coffee table, eye-level with Dean and way too close while he stared.

“Cas!” Dean said as he recoiled, his heart pounding at such a rude awakening.

Cas still didn’t blink as he cocked his head.

“Dude, don’t stare at me when I’m sleeping! It freaks me out,” Dean grumbled.

Cas just cawed, smug, as he puffed up his chest.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Good to see you’re feeling better. How’s the wing?”

Cas held it up and flapped.

“Nice,” Dean said with a grin. His mouth fell open in awe when Cas spread both wings and then beat them a few times before taking off. He careened through Dean’s apartment, zigging and zagging. Dean had to duck a few times, but still felt the gentle swipe of wings across his cheek or the top of his head.

“Show-off,” Dean said good-naturedly when Cas finally landed on the back of the couch. He ruffled his feathers and made a happy clicking noise. Dean reached out to pet him and was shocked when Cas not only allowed it, but closed his eyes and leaned into Dean’s touch. A strange rumbling—sort of like a mini drill—echoed from him, and if Dean didn’t know any better, he’d say Cas was purring. The thought made a smile stretch across his face. “Crows are so awesome.”

Cas preened and opened his eyes. They were so close, Dean could see himself reflected in his pupils, and could count the individual feathers composing his head.

“I’m excited to see your human form, though,” he continued. “I bet it’s been a while, huh?”

Cas chirped an affirmative and seemed to deflate at the reminder of his past.

Dean winced. “Sorry. Hey, I know what’ll cheer you up.”

Cas cocked his head again and cawed.

“Let’s eat some grub and then head outside so you can really stretch your wings. How’s that sound?”  

Cas flapped his wings enthusiastically and Dean hurried to the kitchen to throw together a late lunch.

About halfway through his sandwich preparations, he proposed the idea of a picnic, and Cas agreed on the suggestion. Dean packed the food to go before heading out of the door, Cas perched on his shoulder.

Dean wandered behind his apartment complex and followed a trail that led to the river. Farther upstream, the town had constructed a fancy park, but Dean liked it down here where it was more natural and scenic and hidden away from the rest of the world. He took his usual spot on a boulder on the river bank. Trees provided dappled shade, and Dean enjoyed the warm, flowery breeze and the sound of the river rushing by. He pulled out his ham and cheese sandwich as Cas shot off his shoulder and darted through the air in spiraling pirouettes. He dipped and rose with the wind, and Dean grinned as Cas chased a handful of dragonflies. He caught one and ate it midair, making obscene crunching noises.

“And here I made you a sandwich,” Dean said, shaking his head. Still, he set out the second sandwich next to him so Cas could help himself if he wanted. After a couple more spins through the air, he eventually did, and gracefully alighted down on the boulder. As he ripped apart the sandwich, Dean wondered if eating fast was a Cas thing or a crow thing…or were they one and the same? That was another thing he’d have to ask once they could properly communicate.

The afternoon sun waned, but Dean didn’t to go back inside just yet. Cas had taken to the air again, zooming up and down and all around, and Dean couldn’t take his eyes off him. It occurred to Dean as he tracked Cas into a copse of trees and briefly lost sight of him that Cas could just leave if he wanted to. He didn’t need to stay with Dean. Sure, Dean had provided food, shelter, and safety, but now that his wing was fixed, he could go anywhere—maybe even resume the journey he’d been on when fleeing the breeding center. He must’ve had a destination in mind, unless of course he’d just flown until he collapsed and left his fate up to chance. If that were the case, it was lucky he’d landed on Dean’s car and that he hadn’t injured himself any worse.

A scratch on Dean’s scalp caused him to yelp, but when talons dug in, Dean realized Cas had landed on his head. He stilled. “Geez, wear a bell or something. You keep sneaking up on me and that’s not cool, man.”

Cas’s caw didn’t sound apologetic in the least.

“Just don’t poop on me,” Dean said, “or no more ham and cheese for you.”

Cas hopped down onto his shoulder and carded his beak through the bristles of Dean’s cropped hair. Dean—for lack of a better term—giggled. “Shit, that tickles. Knock it off, man.”

Cas tucked his legs under and sat down on Dean’s shoulder. They stayed in their respective positions for a few minutes, enjoying the sights and sounds and smells.

“Were you aiming somewhere when you ran away? Er, flew away?” Dean asked.

Cas chirped sadly.

“Is that a no?”

Cas chirped again.

“So you high-tailed it outta there with no idea of where to go, huh? Just needed to get away?” Cas didn’t respond, so Dean continued talking to himself, “Don’t blame you. Sounds like you got a shitty deal. And um, I’m glad you landed on _my_ car, you know? Glad I could help you out. And just so you know, you can stay as long as you like. Well, we can talk more when you’re able to transform, obviously, but…I imagine you want to get your Grace back, right? Then you’ll need to find your Witch. I can be around for that, if you want.”

Cas leapt off his shoulder and onto Dean’s lap, then faced him. His eyes unblinking, he sank into the groove between Dean’s legs and just nestled there, getting comfortable. Then he closed his eyes and rested his head on Dean’s thigh. If that wasn’t a sign of trust and acceptance, Dean didn’t know what it was. He gently stroked Cas’s head and back, and all the while, his heart pounded.

He wanted Cas to be his. Desperately. He felt like he could do this—right here, right now—for the rest of his life, and he wanted it _so badly_. But until Cas got his Grace back, he’d never know for sure if they were meant to be.

In that moment, Dean firmed up his decision to help Cas in any way he could. He deserved to get his Grace back, and even if Dean didn’t end up being his Witch, at least Cas would be safe.

“Is he dead?” Ash leaned in to peer at Dean, or rather at Dean’s shoulder where Cas sat, unmoving. They were in the office, since Dean had given Cas the choice to either come to work with him, or stay at the apartment. Dean couldn’t miss too many days when there were already so few employees.

“He’s fine. Just chilling. See?” Dean snagged a fry from Ash’s McDonalds meal and held it up to Cas, who devoured it in three quick bites.

“Hey!” Ash said.

“You snooze, you lose.”

“I was _in the middle of eating._ ”

Cas cawed, and Dean grinned.

Across from him, Charlie clacked away at her keyboard, eyes intent on the screen. Gilda, in human form, rested her chin on her Witch’s shoulder as they scanned website after website.

“Find anything?” Dean asked. He’d set Charlie on the task of locating any online resources about a Familiar’s Grace. If anyone could find even the tiniest scrap of digital information, it was Charlie. Dean’s hairs stood on end as her fingers flew over the keys, working their magic into the system.

“There is some information on Grace,” Gilda said, her face illuminated by the screen. “But nothing about what to do if it is lost.” She shuddered, and Dean felt Cas nuzzle up against his neck, unable to tell if Cas was seeking or giving comfort.

“At least we can take down Metatron,” Charlie said, her gaze still on the computer.

Cas perked up at that with a trilling noise.

“What are you going to do?” Dean asked.

Charlie smirked. “Oh, you know, I’ll just send him an urgent notice to immediately transfer _all_ Familiars to nearby facilities, and throw in some awful reviews to slander him, so no one will ever go back. Actually, I wonder if I could find some official forms to shut down his whole enterprise…” Her mouth fell slack as she worked.

Ash whistled and leaned back in his chair. “Damn. I’d hate to be that guy. Whoever he is.”

Gilda made a noise. “Oh! We could add a pop-up warning to any Witches who try to seek out his information on our network.”

Charlie finally paused to grin up at her Familiar. “Gosh, I love your wicked mind.”

Gilda giggled and pecked Charlie on the cheek. “That’s why we were meant to be.”

“You two are gross,” Dean said, though he secretly wondered if their kind of relationship was something he could have with Cas, if it turned out they were indeed supposed to be a pair.

As Dean got down to his own business, Cas flew off his shoulder and onto the filing cabinet behind him. His claws made scuffling noises on the metal, which seemed to amuse him for a moment before he took off again, out to their break room. He returned to the filing cabinet with napkins in his beak that he proceeded to tear up and arrange into a mock nest.

“I bet a towel will be much more comfortable,” Dean said, and he retrieved one for Cas.

Cas pushed and tugged the fabric to create a lumpy mound, which he sat on with great poise. Dean grinned at the thought of Cas lording over them all not as a guard dog, but a guard _bird_.

Over the next few days, Dean’s schedule resumed normalcy, with one major exception: Cas. No matter where Dean went, he now had a companion to hop up onto his shoulder, nibble at his ear, and caw in laughter or indignation. Dean hadn’t realized how lonely he’d been before Cas, and he ached whenever he remembered that Cas might leave after he got his Grace back. It could turn out that, even though they _seemed_ to Bond, they really weren’t a good Witch/Familiar match, and Dean had to brace himself in case that happened.

He didn’t want to imagine it, though, not with the way Cas had already started to carve his way into Dean’s life. At the apartment, they had a routine in the kitchen where Dean would lay out ingredients, and Cas would point to what he wanted to eat. Then, Dean would put on some music as he cooked, and Cas would sway or tap along to the beat.

At work, Cas had commandeered more items for his nest. He’d added some paper towels, a clean rag, and some scrap paper. He’d also started hoarding a collection of shiny objects like paperclips, coins, screws, buttons, jewelry clasps, keychains, and even a marble, though Dean had no idea where he’d managed to scrounge it all up. His office couldn’t be that dirty, could it?

The whole time, Dean kept his family informed of what was going on. His mom wanted to make sure Cas’s wing was still okay, which prompted Dean to recall that Cas could turn into his human form soon. Dean wondered what he’d look like, and found his thoughts drifting at work as he tried to picture Cas the crow as Cas the man. Would his hair be black like his feathers? Would he have dark or light eyes? Would he be taller than Dean? What would his voice sound like?

On the second day, Dean’s dad called to let him know he had a lead on Cas’s Grace situation. While Charlie hadn’t found anything online, apparently an old friend of John’s named Missouri Moseley might know a thing or two, since she’d formerly worked in a Familiar breeding center. Best yet, she lived on the edge of town, so Dean and Cas could easily drop by. After getting approval from Cas, Dean had his dad set up an appointment for the weekend, so Cas would have a chance to readjust to his human form before speaking with anyone.

The third day, the time for Cas’s return to humanity drew closer, and Dean’s excitement expanded. They’d planned to try his transformation after work, though Charlie, Gilda, and Ash sent them home earlier because Dean was too distract _ed_ , and Cas was too distract _ing_. It appeared they were both eager for Cas to become human again. It made Dean wonder just how long Cas had been a crow during his escape from Metatron. Weeks? Months?

Back at his apartment, it was too early for dinner, so Dean relaxed on the couch and turned on the TV. Cas hopped along the floor, his feathers ruffled and twitching as he seemed lost in thought.

“How’re you feeling?” Dean asked, but Cas didn’t acknowledge his question. Dean decided to let him be, and just sank back into the cushions.

Sometime later, a delicious scent wafted on the air. Grilled cheese? But who was making dinner? Dean sat up with a grunt where he’d fallen asleep in front of the TV. He blinked for a moment, then faced the kitchen. He gasped.

A man with tousled brown hair stood at the stove, a spatula in hand. He wore suit pants and a button-down white shirt. He glanced over at Dean and they both stared at each other for a long moment. Then the smell of burnt toast hit them, and the man scrunched up his nose as he removed a nearly blackened grilled cheese from the frying pan. He deposited it on a plate, turned off the stove, and padded over to offer it to Dean.

“I’m sorry that it got a bit burned. I confess that cooking has never been a strong suit of mine.”

Dean accepted the plate, but barely noticed it. He set it down on the couch as he stood. “Cas?”

The man cocked his head. “Well, yes. Who else would I be?”

Dean grinned. “Oh my god, it _is_ you!” Man, Cas was way handsomer than Dean had pictured. He approached Cas and inspected him up and down. He sniggered. “Nice clothes, man. What’re you some sort of tax accountant?”

“It was part of my disguise,” Cas said. “I didn’t have time to get new ones before I had to change into a crow and fly away.”

Dean’s good mood fell flat as he winced. “Oh. Sorry. That was a dick thing to say.”

Cas shrugged. “It’s alright. I made it to safety.” He smiled slightly, seeming to indicate Dean.

Dean warmed but forged ahead, “Not before you broke your wing, though. What happened?”  

Cas frowned and looked away. “Rough wind and territorial birds. Not Metatron’s doing, though I know he sent Witches after me.”

“What? He did?”

“I lost them,” Cas said. “Or at least most of them. By the time I broke my wing, I knew I was close to freedom.”

“How do you figure that?”

“I found you.”

Dean blinked. “Me?”

“I have never experienced a proper Call—I know, thanks to you, that it’s because of my lost Grace—but I still felt...a tug in this direction. I am almost certain we would have been Bonded had I been able.”

A lump clogged Dean’s throat. He coughed to clear it and managed, “Almost certain?”

Cas smiled at Dean, almost shy. “I can’t be 100% without my Grace, but it feels right being with you.”

Dean blushed. “Dude! You can’t just... _say_ that.”

Cas cocked his head again. “Why not?”

“Because it’s...I don’t know! It’s just…” Dean groaned. “Never mind. Just. Um. How’s it feel, being human? Your arms okay?”

Cas lifted his arms. “They’re fine. Your mother’s healing was truly superb. I would like to thank her and Eve in person, if we get a chance.”

“Oh. Yeah. Of course.” A slow grin spread over Dean’s face when it occurred to him that Cas could meet his whole family now, and actually have a conversation with them. “We could see everyone tonight, probably. An impromptu family dinner. How’s that sound?”

Cas surprisingly looked offended. “But I made you grilled cheese.”

Dean threw back his head and laughed. “Tell you what. We’ll split your grilled cheese and then make plans to go out to dinner. What do you think?”

Cas smiled. “Alright. I look forward to meeting your family in person.”

That night, the Winchesters met at The Roadhouse for some delicious food and wonderful company. The Familiars—Eve, Michael, Ruby, and yes, Cas—were all in their human forms, and with their Witches also present, conversation flowed. Cas got to thank Mary and Eve, and Dean got to learn more about Cas’s background.

He’d grown up in a family of bird Familiars, with four brothers born into the same nest as him: Lucifer, Emmanuel, Steve, and Jimmy. They’d lived at the Genesis Breeding Center all their lives, though during Cas’s childhood, the owner and operator had been a kind man named Joshua, who put all of his care and attention into ensuring that the facility ran smoothly. It all went to hell when Joshua died and Metatron stepped up as director. He cut corners to save himself money, fired staff that had worked there all their lives, reduced the size of the living areas, and skimped on paying the cleaning crew so the place turned into a mess. The worst was cutting off the parent Familiars from their Witches outside the center. Cas wasn’t sure, but he heard that at one point the Witches staged a revolt, but with the Familiars under Metatron’s control, they had to back down for fear of their Familiars getting hurt.

That was when Metatron started removing Familiars’ Grace. Cas’s parents died in an attempt to stop him, and, grief-stricken, Cas and his brothers determined to run away before anything more awful could happen to them. It was during their harrowing escape that Cas made a fatal error and was accidentally left behind.

Still, knowing that his brothers had made it to safety, he fought against Metatron all he could. Unfortunately, he failed to prevent his own Grace—and the Grace of every other Unbonded Familiar remaining—from being taken. At that point, all the Familiars became Metatron’s prisoners, unable to Call to their Witches, and suffering in increasingly terrible conditions. Finally, Cas couldn’t take it anymore. He squeezed his way out of Genesis and never looked back.

“It was perhaps selfishly done, since the rest of them are still there...” Cas said, his voice soft. The others had all quieted out of respect for his horrific story, which he finished just as the waitress returned with the check.

“You did all you could,” Mary said from across the table.

During his speech, Dean’s hand found Cas’s under the table, and now he squeezed where it rested on his thigh. “And Charlie’s fixing everything else. The Familiars are being freed.”

“But so many of them had their Graces stolen,” Cas said.

“We’ll find a way to get them back,” Michael said, his voice steely in its resolve. The other Familiars at the table had grown white with horror and fury the more Cas’s tale went on.

“That’s what Missouri’s for,” John said. “Hopefully.”

“So you don’t know where your brothers are?” Sam asked.

Cas shook his head. “I assume they had their Calls and found their Witches.”

“I bet we could track them down through our network,” Dean said.

Cas glanced at him. “You really think so?”

“You’ve seen Charlie at work. I’m sure she could find them.”

Cas let out a smile. “I would like that very much.”

They paid the bill, then left the restaurant—though not without many rounds of hugs, especially for Cas. It took a few people before Cas finally relaxed into the Winchester family’s embraces, and then he appeared only slightly flustered.

“You take care,” Sam said, thumping Cas hard on the back before pulling away.

“We’ll get your Grace back,” Ruby said, and the other Familiars looked at her and nodded in unison. They were a scary united front, and who knew what sorts of connections they had in their community. Dean honestly wouldn’t be surprised if Ruby, Eve, or Michael showed up with Metatron’s head on a silver platter.

He shuddered and forced his thoughts away from that macabre image. As he and Cas headed down the street back to where the Impala was parked, he gripped Cas’s hand and swung it along with their strides. Neither said anything, but Dean felt comfortable in the relative silence of the evening. Cas had already done a lot of talking, so no more words needed to be said.

That was, until they got back to his apartment. They settled in for a few episodes of _Doctor Sexy_ because that was part of their routine, but as Dean yawned and stretched, he paused.

“Do you know which form you want to sleep in?” he asked.

Crow Cas was easy enough—Dean had improved his nest with a pile of blankets that he could easily shift onto the couch or floor. Human Cas, though, presented a bit of a problem. Dean only had one bed, and the couch wasn’t that comfortable for long periods of time—he knew from experience.

Cas glanced up at him. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, I’d prefer to stay in this form. I was a crow for so long that I…” He ducked his head. “Not that it matters, really. I can do whatever works best.”

“No, no, it’s your choice. You don’t need to explain anything to me. I’ll just uh...I’ll take the couch tonight, I guess.” He winced. The couch wasn’t long enough to support a man over six feet tall. He’d just have to live with the resulting crick in his neck.

“But isn’t your bed big enough?” Cas asked.

Dean blushed. “You...don’t mind sharing?”

“No.” Cas paused. “Unless you do?”

“No, no it’s cool, it’s cool—”

“I’m making this awkward, aren’t I?” Cas asked, as he rose to his feet. “I apologize. I have never been particularly good at reading people. My brothers often made fun of me for it.”

Dean sighed as he met Cas’s eyes. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll make it work.”

“Are you sure? You’ve already done so much for me.”

“Just c’mere.” Dean dragged Cas to him by the sleeves of his shirt. “I want you to feel comfortable.” He hesitated before adding, with a smirk, “And yeah, I guess my bed’s big enough for the both of us.” It was a _king_ , after all—as crappy as his apartment was, he’d made sure to get one that had a bedroom big enough to accommodate his Memory Foam.

Together, they trudged to Dean’s bedroom. As Dean rifled through his drawers, Cas pulled back the covers on the left side.

Dean frowned at him. “Uh, dude, don’t you have pajamas or anything? You’re just going to sleep in a button-down and trousers?”

Cas eyed his clothing, his brows furrowed in confusion.

Dean rolled his eyes as he dug out some sweatpants and a t-shirt. He flung them at Cas, and they landed partially on his head. He peeked out from under them, and the cute frown on his face reminded him of Cas’s crow form.

“Just put them on.”

Dean averted his gaze as he brought his own set of pajamas into the bathroom to change. When he emerged, Cas had cozied up in the bed with the blankets tucked up to his chin, his previous set of clothes folded neatly on the nightstand beside him.

Dean smiled, and his heartbeat increased as he threw back the covers on his side. He settled in bed with Cas a safe distance away. Still, they both flipped onto their sides to stare at each other, and Dean inwardly groaned at how much he felt like a girl at a slumber party.

“Tomorrow we visit Missouri and get your Grace back,” he said at last, after he’d felt Cas’s gaze sweep across his face. Dean winced when Cas’s mood dimmed.

Cas shifted onto his back. “I hope so.”

“Hey, we’ll figure it out, okay? I promise you that.”

“Thank you, Dean. Good night.”

“‘Night, Cas.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t have the information you’re seeking.”

Dean blinked in the face of Missouri Moseley, who stood in the doorway of her home, hands on her hips. He and Cas had slept away the morning, though Dean had woken first and spent far too much time observing the other man’s peaceful face. He’d been embarrassed at the fondness that flooded his heart, and he wanted so much to believe that he and Cas were meant for each other. How could they not be?

But first thing’s first: Cas’s Grace. And apparently, it was a no-go from Missouri. She’d opened the door with Dean’s hand only just poised to knock. Freaking mind-readers.

Dean glanced at Cas, whose shoulders slumped at Missouri’s words.

“That don’t mean I can’t help you with something else, though,” she continued, her dark eyes shrewd.

“What is it?” Dean asked.

“I know one of your brothers, boy,” she said, nodding at Cas, who immediately perked back up.

“Which one? Are they nearby?”

“Steve isn’t far from here. He works in the next town over with his Witch Nora. You can usually find them at Rexford’s Gas-N-Sip.”

Cas turned to Dean with a gummy grin. “He’s okay, and he found his Witch.”

“That he did,” Missouri said. “And I happen to know he’s thought about you, and been worried sick over what happened. I had to go over and help Nora with her new baby girl, so that’s where I met him.”

“Is the baby his?” Dean asked. Witches and Familiars could have that kind of relationship if they so choose, but the resulting child would be a human, and only possess half the powers of a full Witch.

Missouri shook her head. “Naw, but Steve loves the girl like his own. I’m sure you’ll meet her when you visit.”

“Would he be there now?” Cas asked, eagerness infusing his voice. He was practically bouncing in place. He eyed Dean. “Could we see him?”

“Of course. Well, thanks Missouri. Do you have any ideas where we might go for help with Cas’s Grace?”

Missouri’s eyes creased in sadness. “You might try Pamela.”

Dean frowned. “She was a fake, and then had a horrible accident. What will _she_ be able to do?”

“She has abilities beyond mine,” Missouri said. “And more resources to find you boys exactly what—or who—you need. Trust me. I’m a freaking mind-reader.”

Dean’s smile was part-grimace even as Missouri laughed and shooed them off her porch.

“Good luck!” she called after them as they turned to the Impala. “Oh, and Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“You two are meant to be Bonded. I can feel it.”

Cas fidgeted the entire drive to Rexford, clearly impatient. Instead of talking, Dean cranked his tunes to give Cas time to prepare for his upcoming family reunion. No doubt they had much to discuss, so Dean planned to give them privacy.

What he didn’t plan was his reaction upon spotting the man who could only be Steve through the gas station windows.

“He looks exactly like you,” he blurted.

Cas inhaled and exhaled a deep breath. “Yes. We are all identical.”

“And there are five of you running around? Are you all crows?”

“We’re all birds, but not the same kind. Steve’s a black-throated blue warbler, for instance.”

“Gesundheit.”

Cas’s brows furrowed. “Why are you wishing me good health in German?”

“Never mind. Let’s talk to your brother.”

Cas jogged ahead and pushed open the glass door. Steve at the counter didn’t look up, but Dean could see why he was some sort of blue bird—the color suited him. He wore a bright blue vest over a white-and-purple striped shirt, and held a clipboard where he was scribbling words.

Dean hung back as Cas ran up to the counter. He didn’t even have to say anything before Steve sensed him and looked up, his mouth dropping open.

“Cas?” Like his brother, Steve’s voice was low and rough. He dashed around the counter and slammed Cas into a hug.  

Dean found it somewhat strange to be witnessing not only an intimate moment, but one between two identical men. He shrugged off the discomfort when they broke apart and chatted at lightspeed, half of it seemingly in a language other than English.

A woman bustled out from the back room, a classic witch hat on her head. She had curly hair that billowed down over her blouse. “Steve? Are you alright? I just felt a huge spike of—oh my gosh, is this…?”

“Cas. It’s Cas,” Steve said, blinking around tears. “He’s alive.”

“And with his Witch?” she asked, nodding over at Dean.

“Well, sorta,” Dean said with a pained grin.

Steve’s smile vanished. “Actually, now that you mention it…”

“Metatron stole my Grace,” Cas said.

Steve gasped. “No.”

“Steve, why don’t you invite them back into the shop so you two can catch up?” she said. “Oh, I’m Nora by the way.” She shook Dean’s hand, then guided Steve and Cas to the door from which she’d emerged. Dean trailed after them and ended up in a dark room filled floor to ceiling with packed shelves. Dean’s gaze skimmed over the labels, and he realized that attached to the Reg convenience store was a shop for spell ingredients.

Nora led the group up a winding staircase into an apartment above the store. In the living room, a baby girl stood cooing at the edge of her playpen.

“There’s my girl,” Nora said. She scooped the baby up and showed her off. “This here’s Tanya.”

“And this is Dean,” Cas said, for his brother’s benefit.

“I can’t believe this,” Steve said as he moved to the kitchen and brought down mugs from the cabinet. “I knew we should’ve gone back for you.”

“It wouldn’t have made a difference,” Cas said.

Dean realized he could only tell them apart based on their clothing. They seemed to possess similar bird-like mannerisms, as Steve looked like he was rustling his feathers.

“It wasn’t right to leave you behind.”

“There’s no point worrying about the past,” Cas said as he sat in a kitchen chair. “Besides, you all made it out okay, and that’s important.”

“He hurt you,” Steve said. His grip on one of the mugs slipped and it crashed to the floor. Tanya burst into tears.

“I’m going to man the store,” Nora said. She and Steve seemed to have a silent conversation, as he closed his eyes and visibly calmed down while she sashayed out the door, Tanya still in her arms.

“I can go, too,” Dean said, and Cas glanced at him, biting his lip.

“Would you mind?”

Dean shook his head. “You take all the time you need.” He returned to the shop, where Nora was bouncing Tanya behind the desk of the room for Witches. Tanya smiled, nearly all traces of tears forgotten.

Nora noticed Dean and let out a sigh. “I’m sorry. That’s the most emotion I’ve felt out of him in a long time. He used to just be so...sad.”

“Can you feel what he’s feeling?” Dean asked as he leaned against the desk.

Nora nodded. “It’s a Bond. That’s how it works. A constant feedback loop.” She grinned. “Which is great for taking care of our little missy here. Steve always knows when I need a hand with her.”

“Sounds nice.”

“It is. But you two aren’t Bonded?”

Dean explained Cas’s Grace situation, and Nora’s expression softened in sympathy.

“That’s horrible. I mean, Steve told me the gist, but I never realized just what could’ve happened to him if they hadn’t escaped.” The bell chimed from the convenience store, and before Dean could say anything, Nora plopped Tanya in his arms. “You don’t mind, do you? I’ll be right back. After this customer, I’ll close down that side of the place.”

Dean couldn’t say anything before Nora disappeared, but he didn’t mind at all. Tanya was a hefty weight in his arms, but she sat still, just staring at him.

“Hey there, baby girl. Are you a Witch like Mommy? You going to help her make spell ingredients when you get older?” Dean occupied himself by browsing the shelves and reading Tanya the inscriptions under each item. He left out the scarier parts, and felt his own opinion of Witches who could handle these ingredients increase tenfold. Seriously, some of these things were _nasty_ , and he couldn’t imagine touching them, let alone casting a spell with them.

When Nora returned, she took back Tanya and entertained Dean with the history of the place. She’d founded it with her boyfriend at the time, and soon after they’d opened the establishment, she and Steve experienced the Call and Bonded. Unfortunately, Steve never really got along with her boyfriend. He did his best to tolerate the other man’s presence, but wasn’t surprised when he split at the first news of Nora’s pregnancy.

“I had Steve, though, and thank god I did,” Nora said. “He helped me through everything.”

Dean smiled. He couldn’t wait to have that kind of Bond with his Familiar.

Sometime later, after a round of stories about Nora’s hilarious failures as a new mom, Steve and Cas appeared, both more settled and content. Cas had lost his antsiness, and headed right over to grab Dean’s hand.

“I think I need a nap,” he said.

“Sounds good to me.”

“Take care, Cas. You have my contact information,” Steve said. “I swear we’ll figure it out.”

Cas nodded at his brother, and faced Nora. “Thank you for hosting us.”

Nora waved her hand dismissively. “Of course. We’re glad to have you. Come back anytime. I mean it.”

“Will do,” Dean said. He waved to Tanya. “Bye, bye! Be good for Mommy.” He held out his hand, and Cas accepted it as they left the store.

In the Impala, Dean stepped on the gas and they drove silently for a few miles. Dean had a feeling Cas wanted to talk, so he just waited for him to find the right words.

“I can’t believe they’re all okay,” Cas said at last.

“Your brothers?”

Cas nodded. “They all found their Witches.” He huffed and shook his head, a fond smile playing on his lips. “I am the only one with a male Witch.”

“Oh?”

“My brother Jimmy is with a Witch named Amelia. They have a young daughter named Claire. They’re out in Illinois, apparently.”

“Huh.”

“Lucifer found his Witch in Massachusetts. Her name’s Meg. And then Emmanuel found Daphne in Colorado. Steve isn’t sure if they are _together_ or not, but they’re Bonded, last he heard.” He inhaled a shuddering breath. “They all made it. They’re safe. They’re happy. I wasn’t sure I’d ever see them again.”

Dean frowned at the steering wheel, a thought occurring to him. “Sounds great for them, but why didn’t they try harder to get you out?”

Cas shot him a glare, and Dean winced.  

“It wasn’t safe, and they had no way to counteract Metatron. They probably just thought I was dead.”

“But—”

“I don’t blame them. They did what they had to do to survive. Metatron had all kinds of powers at his disposal.” Cas let out a huge breath and sank deeper into the passenger seat. “But it doesn’t matter now. It’s all in the past. I have other things to focus on.”

Dean nodded. “Speaking of, we’ll actually be passing Pamela’s place if you feel up for stopping by.”

Cas closed his eyes. “Yes, we should.”

“You sure you’re not too tired?”

“I need to get my Grace back.”

Dean grunted and drove on in silence.

A half hour later, they pulled up at a truck stop with a dingy bar attached to it. A sign hung on the dirty window of the bar advertising a tarot reader on the upper level, which is where Dean knew Pamela had set up her practice.

Dean led the way as he and Cas shouldered through the bar, which was essentially bare, since it was still the afternoon. A grizzly bartender squinted at them as he wiped down a glass, then nodded to the stairs barely illuminated in the back.

“If you’re looking for Pam, that’s where you’ll find her.”

“Uh, thanks,” Dean said.

Cas crowded close. “Does she really work here? This place seems…”

“Disgusting?”

“Well, yes. And she’s had an accident?”

“She’s blind, from what I’ve heard.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I don’t get it either.”

The stairs were cramped and dusty, so they had to ascend single file. At the top, they came to a doorway draped with beads. Beyond it sat a small, rounded room with a table in the center and a shadowy figure at the far end.

“Hello,” a woman’s sultry voice called from within.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Spare us the theatrics, please.”

“Don’t be impolite,” Cas said as he pushed past Dean to swipe the beads away and stride into the room. Cas stopped short and Dean nearly plowed into him.

“Pamela, I presume?” he asked.

“The one and only, baby.” Pamela looked eerily pale in the flickering light of several candles, and the black walls didn’t help. Her face was bare, and her milky white eyes stared at them, unseeing.   

“What brings you fine gentlemen to my humble abode?”

“Cas has a question about his Grace,” Dean said as he scraped back a seat and sat.

Cas huffed, but took his own seat. “Yes, apologies for his rudeness. My name is Cas, and this is Dean. I am a Familiar, and I believe Dean is my Witch. However, my Grace was extracted before either of us could experience a Call.”

Pamela leaned forward to steeple her fingers on the table. Something metallic jingled as she shifted forward. Her long nails were painted red.

“Grace, huh? Never heard of this kind of problem before. Most Witches and Familiars come separately, begging to know when their Calls will happen.”

“Dean and I are connected,” Cas said. “But it can never be official until I get my Grace back. A kind woman named Missouri told us you might be able to help with that.”

Pamela’s lips, which were smudged with dark lipstick, twitched into a smirk. “She did, did she? Well, I’ll have to see what the spirits say. I might know of a guy, but he’s only friendly when he wants to be.”

“Can you ask him, please?”

“I’ll do my darndest.” Pamela closed her eyes and chanted under her breath. A thrumming tension filled the air, and the hairs on the back Dean’s neck stood on end.

Cas fidgeted in his seat, and Dean stilled him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Just hang tight. We got this.”

Pamela tilted back her head to face the ceiling. She threw out her arms and chanted louder in a language Dean couldn’t even begin to understand. Then she dropped her arms and blinked. The air settled and returned to normal, as if nothing had happened. “Huh. I think I might’ve actually gotten his attention.”

“Whose attention?” Dean asked.

“I’m not allowed to tell you his name.”

“Why the hell not?” When Pamela said nothing, Dean continued, “Wait, so was that it? That’s all you’re going to do to help us?”

Pamela shrugged. “He’s a fickle guy, but I will say that he seemed somewhat intrigued.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Let’s just say I have a feeling help is on its way.” A wicked smile graced her lips.

Dean clenched his fist. “Come on. You’ve got to give us more than that.”

“Wish I could, sweet thing, but it doesn’t work that way. Just be glad I’m not charging you.”

“You’d charge money for that crap?”

“ _Dean_ ,” Cas said as he stood. He pulled Dean to his feet. “Thank you so much for your help.”

“Yeah, right,” Dean muttered under his breath.

Cas dragged Dean out the door, down the stairs, and toward the Impala.

They were silent on the way back to the apartment. Dean white-knuckled the steering wheel practically the whole way, although his tension eased slightly when he acknowledged that the trip hadn’t been a complete bust. Actually, it’d been pretty damn successful for Cas, since he’d found his family again.

Dean was just being a selfish bastard in wanting Cas to get his Grace back, wasn’t he? Sure, it would be helpful for Cas, but for Dean, it would prove that he wasn’t broken—that is, if Cas was actually meant to be his Familiar. But he couldn’t help it. For once, he wanted to enter a room with _his_ actual Familiar, and have _his_ number plugged into people’s phones so they could call when they needed magical help. No offense to Ash, but he was tired of being a Reg. He was beyond ready to become the Witch he was born to be.

“Dean,” Cas said, and Dean startled at the gentle hand on his arm. They’d arrived at his apartment, and the Impala sat idling in his parking spot.

“Um. Sorry. How long was I spacing out?”

“Not long.” Cas gazed at him in concern. “Are you alright?”

Dean turned off the car and scrubbed a hand down his face. “I don’t know anymore, man. I guess I’m just...ready for it to be over, you know? Not that I want you to leave or anything,” he added hastily at Cas’s sudden crestfallen expression. “I just want to know if you’re my Familiar or not, officially.” He didn’t mention that he was exhausted from both building up his hope, and bracing himself for inevitable disappointment. That’s how it’d been his whole life, especially after he waited for his Call and it never happened.

Cas squeezed his arm. “Trust me. I know it’ll be official. We just have to be patient. Pamela did say help is on its way, right?”

“You actually believe her?”

“Yes, I do.”

Dean heaved a breath. “Fine. Let’s just go have dinner. I’m starving.” Together, they climbed the stairs to his apartment, only to stop halfway when Cas threw out an arm.

“Something’s wrong,” he said, his brows furrowed.

At his words, Dean sensed something, too, or rather a lack of something. His apartment’s wards were gone.

“There’s someone up there,” Cas said.

“So what do we do?”

“Oh come on already,” a male voice drifted down to them. “I don’t got all day, you know.”

Dean blinked, and then he and Cas were sitting on the couch in his apartment. He had no memory of how they’d gotten there, though magical energy crackled in the air.

A short man with tawny hair leaned against the doorway of Dean’s bedroom. He wore jeans and a button-up plaid shirt, with a smirk similar to Pamela’s on his face.

“Hey there, kiddos. How goes the Grace hunt?” he asked.

“Who the hell are you?” Dean demanded. He attempted to stand, but some sort of invisible barrier kept him in place.

“Now, now, Dean-o, no need to get upset. Sorry I killed your wards, but a good friend got in touch about something I actually _care_ about, so I had to drop by. Also, I’m kinda bummed you don’t recognize me.” He adopted a mockingly sad expression. “Then again, I don’t think any Witches know who I am nowadays. Makes life much easier for everyone.”

Dean gritted his teeth and fought against the barrier. “Okay, if you don’t tell me who you are in the next five seconds I’ll—”

“What?” The man leaned in. “You’ll what?”

“Please,” Cas said, much calmer than Dean. “Will you tell us who you are and what you’re doing here?”

The man grinned and jerked a thumb at Cas. “Oh, I like him. He’s actually got manners.”

Sweat broke out on Dean’s brow as he struggled, and the man finally sighed dramatically.

“Don’t hurt yourself, sheesh. Alrighty, I’m Gabriel. Ta-da!” He swept his arms out and displayed jazz hands. They dropped to his sides when he frowned. “Really? Nothing? No recognition whatsoever?” He paused and added to himself, “Wow, I did a _really_ good job blending in. Huh.”

“Okay, so you’re Gabriel. What does that mean?” Dean asked.

“I’m Gabriel, patron saint of Witches and Familiars everywhere.”

A beat of silence passed, where Dean frowned. “What?”

“Really?” Gabriel asked. He shook his head. “What are they teaching kids in school these days?”

“Did Pamela send you?” Cas asked.

“Ah, there’s a good question. The answer is, yes. We met at a concert, back in the day, when I was in my grunge phase.”

“Oh my god, _who the hell are you_?” Dean demanded.

“I already told you. I’m the patron saint of Witches and Familiars. I’m the reason magic exists at all.” He rolled his eyes at Dean’s confused expression. “I’m a god, you dumbass. And before you ask, yes, an actual, literal _god_.” At the last word, thunder clapped and the light dimmed. A shadow projected onto the walls behind Gabriel of six wings sprouting from his back. Power thrummed through the air, and as he lifted his hands, so did everything in the room, including the couch where Dean and Cas sat.

“Okay, okay, please put us down!” Dean said as they continued to rise off the floor.

Gabriel slowly lowered them. “Now do you get it?”

Dean stared, unable to form words or even nod in comprehension.

“Why are you here?” Cas asked. His face had gone pale, and his eyes wide.

“To give back what is rightfully yours. I’m your literal deus-ex-machina.”

Dean’s mouth gaped for a moment before he finally sputtered, “You can help Cas with his Grace?”

“I can do better than that. You see, Grace is my thing. I made sure Familiars had enough to initiate the Call, because Bonds are the most important part of this whole system. I mean, the Horn of Gabriel, right? Being able to Call is kind of a big deal to me.” He paced the length of the living room, right in front of Cas and Dean.

“So Pamela gets in touch about your situation, right? And I’m like, whoa, hey, extracting Grace ain’t cool at all. I tap into the Witch and Familiar frequency, and I hear the name Metadouche coming up a lot, so I decide to pay him a visit. Turns out he’s got a cache of Grace just sitting in vials in his basement. I think he was planning to do a big spell with them, but thanks to me, he never got the chance. Oh! And I got a present just for you.”

Gabriel reached into an inner pocket of his shirt and produced a corked vial with a tiny ball of bright light flitting inside it. It buzzed like a bee as it whirled almost in anger.

Beside Dean, Cas gasped and leaned forward. “Is that…?”

“Hold on, let me get this straight,” Dean interrupted. “Pamela called you, and you took down Metatron in like, an hour? And now you want to just give Cas his Grace back? What’s the catch?”

Gabriel bounced the vial in his hand, and Dean couldn’t help but notice how Cas’s gaze followed the movement.

“Yep,” Gabriel said, popping the ‘p.’ “Like I said, I’m a god. Your literal deus-ex-machina. No catch, except maybe pray for me sometime? I think it’d be nice to get recognized again. Clearly I’ve been away for too long.” He blew out a breath. “Anyways, I’ll just leave this with you. I’ve got to head out and release all the other Graces that asswipe nabbed. Ta-ta, kiddos! And don’t forget me.” With a wink, he disappeared, and Dean fell forward as the barrier collapsed.

Cas breathed hard, and Dean wrapped an arm around him. “Hey, you okay?”

Cas lifted his head, and Dean followed his gaze to the vial that sat, balanced, on top of his TV.

“Go get it,” Dean said.

Cas didn’t need to be told more than once.

He surged up from the couch and lunged for the vial. Dean half-thought he would smash it to the ground, but instead, he pulled out the cork. The ball of light whizzed out of the vial and exploded into a blinding cloud of white. Cas threw his arms out, and as he opened his mouth, the cloud simply poured into it. For a perverse second, Dean wondered what Grace tasted like.

And then it was like volts of electricity pulsed through Dean’s body. Every nerve sang, and Dean felt a power deep within him stirring to life, then humming in contentment. Indistinct voices chanted all around him—no, not voices, a single voice. Cas’s voice. Dean had heard a lot of crazy stories about other Witches’ Calls, but his own had to be up there, because it was as if an actual choir of angels descended from Heaven to initiate their Bond. As lame as it was, that was the only way he could describe the enormous emotions pounding through him, including satisfaction, wonder, and impossible joy.

To his horror, tears leaked from his eyes. He closed them to stop the flood, and when he next blinked them open, the intense light show had dispersed and only Cas stood before him, bracing his hands on Dean’s shoulders.

Dean sniffled. “Holy shit.”

“Holy shit indeed.”

Dean laughed. “Is it always supposed to be like that?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Cas said, and he laughed, too.

“I can’t believe it finally happened,” Dean said, shaking his head. “Wow. And don’t you dare say it.”

Cas’s eyes glinted. “Say what?”

“You know damn well what I mean.”

“Do I?”

Dean shoved him. “Shut up, birdbrain.”

“My Witch is awfully rude. Oh, and by the way?”

“Don’t say it.”

Cas smirked. “I told you so.”

**EPILOGUE**

“We’ve got a live one,” Ash said as he held up the phone and nodded at Dean from his desk.

Dean stood at the filing cabinet, feeding Cas the crow the rest of his bagel from breakfast.

Cas cawed. _You should answer it_ , he said telepathically through their Bond.

Dean sighed. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll get it. Gimme a second.”

_Don’t keep them waiting. It’s impolite._

Dean shot Cas a look and wandered over to grab the phone from Ash. “Hello?”

“Hi,” said a young woman’s tremulous voice. “Are you Dean Winchester from _Who You Gonna Call_?”

“That I am. What’s your name?”

“Chelsea.”

“Nice to meet you, Chelsea. Now what can I help you with?” He leaned against his desk chair.

“My friend told me about your service and I was wondering, well. Um. This is going to sound stupid, but I guess I’m afraid to try it.”

Dean nodded. “I get that, believe me. But every Witch has a Familiar. I promise.”

The woman sniffled. “Are you sure? It’s just...I’m about to graduate high school and I still haven’t had my Call yet.”

Dean smiled. “I know the feeling. But it’s going to happen, okay?”

“Okay, I guess.”

“Great, so here’s what you have to do.” Dean sat to deliver his typical spiel. They got these kinds of calls every once in awhile, and though he pretended to complain, he secretly enjoyed getting to comfort others who were in a situation exactly like his not too long ago. Cas, of course, knew he liked them, too. Even now, he regarded Dean smugly from his nest.

“The spell’s real easy,” Dean said. He knew because he’d created it, once he realized the extent of his powers. “All you do is say the words while holding an object that’s precious to you. It works best with something you’ve had the longest, or something that you’ve poured a lot of energy into. Once you do that, the signal will activate, and we’ll be able to see it on our website.”

As he spoke, Dean brought up the map showing all the Witches who’d activated their signals. The screen flashed before him, and he sensed through his magic Chelsea’s unique signature. At the same time, a Witch hat icon popped up near Des Moines, Iowa.

Dean switched the screen to show the table of Familiars who’d activated their signals. They were grouped together based on location, which usually meant their breeding center.

“Do you see your signal on the map?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Okay, so what you can do is click on the tab for Familiar signals. Did you do that?”

“Yeah.”

“Now I want you to hover your mouse over the signals, but really slowly, and one at a time. Really concentrate on what you’re doing. You’re trying to sense a Familiar who’s compatible with you. Some people describe it with colors, while others describe feelings or smells.”

“But what if my Familiar’s not registered yet?”

“I can assure you that most of the Familiars are, and we’re going to get the rest uploaded soon. You’ll just have to be a little more patient, okay? We’ve got all the centers listed, though, so if you focus, you might be able to at least narrow down the location.”

“Really?” Chelsea exhaled a large breath. “And this is actually free?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Dean grinned. The official magical council that presided over all others had gifted him and his business a generous grant thanks to his role in ‘providing an essential service for the supernatural community.’

It took nothing on Dean’s part, really. As soon as he and Cas experienced their Call and Bonded, he’d had the niggling sense that he could help Witches and Familiars connect faster. It was Cas’s idea to create a spell, and the ending result was a way for Witches and Familiars to put pieces of themselves online so they could more easily find each other. In this way, it added emotional and sensory context to traditionally impersonal web algorithms. As Charlie put it, he made computers more ‘people-friendly...literally,’ while Sam classified his abilities as cyber-sensorily locational. Ruby just called him a Witch GPS.

Whatever it was, he was really able to help people. He didn’t have flashy powers, but he didn’t need them. What he had was more than enough.

Chelsea sniffled again over the phone. “I can’t believe this. I might actually have a Familiar.”

“You definitely do,” Dean said. “It just might take you a little longer than most to find them.” He swiveled in his chair to meet Cas’s eyes. He smiled as Cas chirped. “Or to let them find you.”  

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! 
> 
> You can follow me on my tumblr [here](http://through-shadows-falling.tumblr.com/).
> 
> And as a shameless plug, if you liked this Witch/Familiar AU, [check out my other one called Unbound](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4603530/chapters/10490553) where the roles are reversed: Dean is the Familiar, and Cas is the Witch. Here's the summary: 
> 
> "In a world where Witches and Familiars depend on each other to survive, Dean Winchester remains Unbound, and his magic—and life—is dwindling. Dean has accepted his fate, even if his family hasn't. After all, what can he do about it?
> 
> But then a man stumbles into his life who just might be Dean's Witch, but for some mysterious reason, refuses to Bond. On top of that, there's trouble brewing on the horizon, and it seems that Dean's caught right in the thick of it.
> 
> Can Dean convince the stranger that they need each other, before it's too late for the both of them—and their world?"
> 
> [You can read Unbound here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4603530/chapters/10490553).


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